Monday, July 04, 2022

Mining Resistance From Alberta to Argentina

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At the end of last year, at the height of the Omicron variant spread, an important battle was being fought for clean water and a healthy environment, the value of which has only become clearer during the last couple of years.

At one of the many frontiers of mineral extraction in the Patagonian province of Chubut, Argentina, Indigenous Mapuche-Tehuelche communities and citizens groups flooded the streets for days just before Christmas 2021.

A U.S.-Canadian mining company, Pan American Silver, had been pressuring legislators there to overturn a nearly 20-year prohibition on open-pit metal mining and the use of cyanide in mineral processing, which threatens precious water supplies. When lawmakers obliged and zoned for mining where the company wants to operate on the province’s plateau, people went to the streets by the thousands and faced violent police repression.

But the people prevailed, and within a few days succeeded in getting the zoning law overturned.

This is just one example of the important frontline struggles that have fought hard to keep organizing during the pandemic despite the difficult conditions. This story and others are collected in a new report: No Reprieve for Life and Territory: COVID-19 and Resistance to the Mining Pandemic.

No Reprieve looks at how governments and mining companies took advantage of social constraints during the COVID-19 pandemic to increase their profits and declare mining “essential” for economic recovery and the energy transition.

This report focuses on case studies in nine Latin American countries: Mexico, Honduras, Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Brazil, Chile, and Argentina. It was developed by the Coalition Against the Mining Pandemic-Latin America, part of a global network of environmental justice groups. 

In nearly every case studied, Indigenous peoples and other mining affected communities faced intensified repression, criminalization, targeted violence, and militarization in response to their efforts to protect water and land from the long-term impacts of mining.

A Global Trend of Repression by Mining Companies

In the U.S., we are familiar with the criminalization and repression of movements for environmental justice, racial justice, and Indigenous rights at the behest of extractive industries.

Indigenous people fighting to defend and protect their land have been met with serious repression and legal persecution in the United States, including during the Enbridge Line 3Line 5, and Standing Rock protests. The intense policing and militarization of movements has been accelerated by so-called “Critical Infrastructure Laws,” enforced by state governments. These laws conflate peaceful protest with acts of domestic terrorism and have been a key tool pushed for by the fossil fuel industry to expand oil and gas pipeline projects.

This echoes a global trend.

For years now international organizations documented industry pressure to contain resistance through repression and violence. “Activists in the global north are facing increased criminalization,” Adrien Salazar of the Grassroots Global Justice Alliance told CNN last year. Meanwhile, “environmental defenders in the global south are facing increasing risk of death.”

In 2021 alone, the Inter-American Commission of Human Rights found that 147 human rights activists had been murdered. In the first four months of 2022, 89 more had been murdered already.

A majority of the slain activists were land defenders, environmental activists, or Indigenous community members. According to the Human Rights Defenders and Civic Freedoms Programme, 36 percent of attacks on human rights defenders that the center has documented relate to the extractive sector.

This kind of repression ultimately costs people their health, lives, and well-being. At the same time, it undermines democratic systems and jeopardizes our environment.

Mining Companies Are Peddling False Solutions

During the pandemic, extractive industries have criminalized and threatened defenders or pressed their case for more repression by presenting themselves as important for economic recovery.

Despite the threats that metal mining poses to the land and water, No Reprieve documents how this industry repositioned itself as “essential” while benefiting from a rise in gold, silver, and copper market prices, leading some mining companies to make record-breaking profits.

Beyond Argentina, this trend was clearly demonstrated elsewhere in Latin America through policy changes that made mining permitting easier, relaxed environmental oversight, and provided tax breaks. A few countries, such as Panama and Ecuador, decreed special plans to make mining a central focus for economic reactivation.

Unlike in the United States, where repression often benefits fossil fuel industries foremost, Latin America has seen a rise in violent extractivism by companies arguing that the minerals they mine are necessary for renewable energy technology.

Globally, the installation of renewable energy infrastructure and the manufacture of electric vehicles is projected to increase demand for certain minerals and metals, such as lithium, cobalt, and nickel. This led to initiatives in countries such as Peru and Mexico making lithium extraction a strategic priority for the state.

These challenges point to the need for a just transition to renewable energy that doesn’t repeat the same abuses of the extractive industry. Whatever the mineral or metal, frontline and Indigenous communities still bear the brunt of harms from mineral extraction that are rarely addressed and which has given rise to broad resistance.

State favoritism toward the mining industry during the pandemic even led to the perception that it was a crisis made to suit the mining industry.

Iván Paillalaf, a member of the Mapuche-Tehuelche community of Laguna Fría Chacay Oeste in Chubut, believes “the crisis that currently exists in Chubut… is an intentionally designed crisis; a crisis that has been created precisely to try and impose this activity so that the people see no other way out other than mining.”

This does not mean that communities have viewed the pandemic itself as a conspiracy, but rather that they’ve seen how corporations and governments are taking advantage of the social and economic constraints that it created. This reaffirmed for them the urgent need to continue defending their communities and territories under these difficult conditions.

Heroic Resistance Across the Hemisphere

Even with these obstacles, these Latin American communities offer an inspiring example of resistance against difficult odds. Resistance remains strong in Chubut and across the hemisphere.

Despite the stay-at-home orders that hindered organizing efforts, a People’s Initiative to expand the prohibition on open pit mining in Chubut to include exploration and prospecting activities collected double the signatures required by law to be considered. This initiative was rejected without debate in 2021 before the legislature tried to overturn the existing ban. But the movement in Argentina is taking another run at it this year, aiming to collect 100,000 signatures.

North and South, repression and violence is taking place against those standing up to extractive industries. This is part of the extractive capitalist model that permits private corporate interests to overpower human rights, self-determination, and democracy..

The cases detailed in No Reprieve demonstrate a need to envision a future beyond the extractivist economy. During a pandemic and in the face of a climate crisis, the struggle to defend our territories and collective health is more essential now than ever.

This first appeared on FPIF.

Ennedith Lopez is a New Mexico Fellow at the Institute for Policy Studies.

Climate Chaos Arrives in Yellowstone

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Northern loop road collapse, Yellowstone National Park. Photo: Yellowstone National Park.

Somewhere in Yellowstone’s wild green valleys the wildlife is having a massive party. Bison are cavorting and rolling in the dust, pronghorn and mule deer are having races, coyotes are yipping up a storm, wolves are howling and wrestling and playing, bears are romping about, having tree climbing contests. Even the dour moose are nodding and kicking up their heels and badgers are digging and wriggling about. Cranes call their ancient rattles, ground squirrels run across empty highways, and fish explore remade river channels free of hooks and lines.

On Monday,  June 13 Yellowstone and southern Montana experienced its worst natural disaster in modern times, with the possible exception of the 1959 Hebgen Lake Earthquake. Following a dry and mild winter, unusually heavy late spring snowfall (6 feet over Memorial Day Weekend) in the Absaroka and Beartooth Mountains north and east of Yellowstone left the landscape primed for a massive flood. And over the weekend of June 11 and 12 the skies delivered a killer punch in the form of torrential rain – an entire summer’s worth in 3 days. And atmospheric river aimed at Yellowstone like a warm water hose, dousing the wet spring snow pack with a vertical flood of rain. This heavy rain on the deep snow brought 8 inches of water out of the mountains in a hurry, swelling rivers and creeks to unheard of ferocity, altering the course of many rivers and demolishing everything in the way.

Yellowstone is well known and infamous for being one of the biggest and most powerful volcanoes on Earth. Fears of a mega eruption here are genuine but low on the scale of likely disasters. But not many predicted the events of Monday the 13th of June.

Every creek and river coming out of the high country burst its banks, with catastrophic results. Roads were torn apart, bridges destroyed, communities heavily flooded with cold brown rushing water. The normally inviting blue-green Yellowstone River rose to over three feet beyond its record high level, reaching 50,000 cubic feet per second at Corwin Springs just north of the Park, where  the previous record was 32,000. Within hours it undercut riverbanks until homes fell into the river and were swept downstream. The Yellowstone in Yankee Jim Canyon rose 50 feet in a few hours, covering State Highway 89 and ripping down the old one-lane Carbella Bridge. The river, now an insane raging beast, inundated lower lying parts of Paradise Valley and the town of Livingston, requiring the hospital there to be evacuated. Only sandbagging on top of the levee – built following 2 consecutive years of “100-year” floods in 1996 and 1997 – kept the flooding in Livingston from being much worse.

The tourist town of Gardiner Montana was completely cut off as roads all around the town were flooded and destroyed. The town water system was polluted and the power went out. Red Lodge Montana, a popular tourist town on the Beartooth Highway, was devastated when  Rock Creek raged through the middle of town, covering roads in deep rushing water, flooding hundreds of home and businesses and tearing houses off their foundations. The main street in town was left covered with huge boulders and trees and bridges were gone. Cooke City and Silver Gate Montana, near Yellowstone’s Northeast Entrance, were also cut off and lost all their bridges. The Beartooth Highway, called by some “the most scenic road in America”, has at least 6 major washouts and is closed indefinitely. Currently the only way to reach Cooke City is from Cody, Wyoming over the Chief Joseph Highway.

Many other Montana towns and settlements throughout the region suffered massive damage, from Belfry to Absarokee to Roscoe and Nye. The road to the popular East Rosebud Lake was totally destroyed as was a section of road to the Stillwater Mine. In Billings, the state’s largest city, the water treatment plant had to be temporarily shut down.

The one amazing silver lining is that no one was hurt or killed in these floods. Search and Rescue folks deserve a huge amount of credit. Swift water rescues, helicopter recues and rapid contact and evacuation of park visitors made sure everyone was safe.

As I write this Yellowstone Park is completely closed and all tourists – 10,000 or so – have been evacuated. The road into the park from the North Entrance is beyond repair. The raging Gardiner River reduced this important road to rubble, also trashing the sewage system for Mammoth Hot Springs. It is the only road in from the North Entrance to Mammoth Hot Springs, the park headquarters, and is typically very busy. This five mile road is so badly damaged it will probably have to be replaced elsewhere, and in fact $50 million in federal highway money has just been promised to do that.  The road was washed away and compromised between Tower Junction and the Northeast Entrance, meaning Yellowstone’s wildlife-rich Lamar Valley, epicenter of a thriving wildlife tourism industry, is inaccessible.

It is, for now, a whole different world in Lamar Valley, where the usual summer throngs of tourists seeking the next wildlife photo op, crowding every turnout, pushing closer and closer toward sensitive and dangerous animals, are missing. You can be sure that Yellowstone’s diverse and spectacular wildlife do not miss the crowds nor the traffic – they have the summer valleys to themselves for the first time in memory. How I would love to see how the animals react to this absence of annoying bipeds our infernal machines.

Other parts of Yellowstone fared better and the southern loop road to Yellowstone Lake, Old Faithful, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and Norris Geyser Basin will open June 22. The Northern Loop could open in early July. Vehicles will be able to enter the South, West and East entrances to the park. But the park will have a limited entry system based on vehicle license plate, to avoid completely overwhelming the remaining accessible sites.

Ongoing infrastructure projects in Yellowstone like replacing a bridge over the Yellowstone River near Tower and improving the Craig Pass road will likely be deferred or delayed as crews and resources are diverted to try and make roads passable.

The backcountry of Yellowstone is also currently closed, as is much of the nearby Custer Gallatin National Forest, including the Absaroka and Beartooth Mountains, leaving vast areas of wilderness essentially free of humans in summer – an unheard-of prospect and a great relief to wildlife. Backcountry infrastructure like bridges, trails, campsites and trailheads – not to mention access roads – is no doubt in bad shape and will take months to assess and years to repair. And then what? When will the next, possibly worse, extreme flood occur?

Many of us living in the Yellowstone region recall the 1988 forest fires that burned over nearly 1/3 of Yellowstone Park and many surrounding areas. The fires of that season were immense, destructive and terrifying. Yet they did not damage nearly as much infrastructure as the 2022 floods. Those fires were probably fueled by climate change and should have been  a major alarm. Humans however seem to keep hitting the snooze button after wake-up calls from nature. This time will be no different – we will clean up and repair and continue with business as usual, burning lots of fossil fuel to fix what nature tried to reclaim and declaring (as Montana Governor Greg Gianforte, on holiday in Italy during the floods and unwilling to cut short his trip to deal with a massive disaster, said) “Montana is open for business.”

Accelerating climate change, fueled entirely by human consumption of coal, oil and natural gas, is producing ever more disastrous events like the Yellowstone floods. The 2021 Greater Yellowstone Climate Assessment predicted a “30-80% increase in spring precipitation” in Greater Yellowstone. Looks like that came true all at once. And the results are terrifying.

The last time there was this much carbon dioxide in Earth’s atmosphere was 3.3 million years ago. At that time, there was no ice at the Earth’s poles!  We are in uncharted territory, burning through options as we delay and deny, politicians posturing and pretending as they slurp subsidies from the barons of oil, failing to take meaningful action to shore up the future from the coming chaos of runaway Greenhouse Effect.

Yellowstone is hardly the only place getting hammered by climate chaos. The American Southwest is baking in 110 degrees and no rain, with dust storms becoming the norm.  The Colorado River is drying Up.  Lake Powell is at 27% of capacity and Lake Meade at 28%. These reservoirs are the life blood of major cities like Phoenix and Las Vegas.  The Great Salt Lake is at a record low level and is at a tipping point where 1% more salinity could kill all the brine shrimp and sterilize the lake, a major stopover for migrating birds. Dust storms from the dry lake bed will bring toxic dust into Salt Lake City and the heavily populated Wasatch Front. Fires of course are breaking out everywhere with entire towns getting incinerated in Colorado, California, Oregon Washing ton and Montana the past year. Alaska is burning heavily already with tundra fires burning vast areas of the North Slope, and sea ice becoming a thing of the past. Fires are raging in New Mexico and Arizona. In the Southeastern US a record breaking heat wave is descending right now which will bring the heat index into uncharted territory in major cities like Atlanta and Charlotte and Nashville. India has just been through a massive killer heat wave, and Europe is baking in one of the worst heat waves ever seen there – temps nearing 40 degrees C (103 F) in France, and Spain is similarly hot – 10 degrees C above normal. Heat waves are the most deadly phenomenon of climate change – a 2003 heat wave in Europe killed 15,000 people.

We seem to assume things will stay as they are, that each catastrophe is a one-off and will not happen again nor will we be faced with a worse one. The Yellowstone floods have brought home how bad it can get and how quickly. Waters rose within minutes in many places, taking people by surprise and inundating areas viewed as above flood zones. Now we have a massive mess to clean up, an immense amount of repairs to do, and a large unemployed work force of guides (myself included), Park Service folks, restaurant and hotel employees, raft guides, bus drivers, etc. right at the start of what is usually the busiest season for the national parks. Add this massive layoff to the cost of repairs and the huge loss of tourism dollars. Catastrophes like the Yellowstone floods are extremely expensive and should be added to the cost/benefit analysis of development of existing and new fossil fuel sources.

The irony is not lost on me that my job and the tourism industry are heavily dependent on fossil fuels. On a typical day on the job as a Yellowstone tour guide I was driving about 240 miles with some days up to 400. So I realize I was contributing to the eventual demise of the place I love and work. Industrial tourism is one of many arms of the fossil fuel beast, burning up petrified swamps and dinosaur bones in a mad frenzy to do and see and consume the beauty and mystery of the vanishing natural world before it is gone. Eco-tourism as such does not really exist unless it is birding in your own back yard or walking local trails.

Thanks to a serious injury that sidelined my guiding career in May this year I have burned very little fossil fuel in the past 2 months. With oil corporations profiteering off the Ukraine war and gas around $5.00 per gallon, being sidelined is a bit of a relief and is saving my wife and I some serious money on gas (which is instead going to medical bills). Tour companies in Yellowstone and everywhere are raising rates as a necessity with fuel prices skyrocketing. The Covid 19 pandemic had already put a serious dent in tourism during the last 2 years  – I was out of work for 2 months in the spring of 2020. Yellowstone area tourism had rebounded quite a bit and was on track to be back to near record numbers – 4.5 million visitors per year. Now it’s all a big question how much the park can handle and how many people will still visit. And where will all those displaced visitors go? Other parks like Glacier and Grand Teton are guaranteed to get swamped with visitors.

Of course the federal government and state and local tourism promoters are hell bent on getting everything open as soon as possible. Most of Yellowstone will be up and running by early July, but the north and Northeast entrance roads are too heavily damaged and will require major work. Still, with Yellowstone such a major tourist draw all stops will be pulled out to get it back open, impacts and expense be damned.

Perhaps this would be a good time to take a pause and consider what we are doing. How should we approach preservation of iconic and imperiled landscapes like Yellowstone, part of the “last great intact temperate ecosystem”?  Is heavy duty tourism really the best way to interact with such places as Yellowstone Lake, Hayden Valley, Lamar Valley? Is unfettered tourism even sustainable? Are we killing the goose that laid the golden egg?

The Yellowstone floods may be a one-off or they may return this season or next spring. You can expect more of the same – or worse – in Yellowstone or any number of other locations. For instance, in Denali National Park in Alaska a big chunk of the only road into the park interior slid off a mountain recently (probably due to permafrost melting), and will require major repairs to access the campgrounds and resorts at Wonder Lake and Kantishna.

Anyone care to predict the next mega disaster caused by fossil fueled fools?

Phil Knight is an environmental activist in Bozeman, Montana. He is a board member of the Gallatin-Yellowstone Wilderness Alliance.

Singapore’s proposed online safety laws look like more censorship in disguise

If the government appoints itself Guardian of the Internet, its citizens will never learn how to navigate a messy online world.



By KIRSTEN HAN
29 JUNE 2022
Ore Huiying/Bloomberg/Getty Images

IDEAS

By KIRSTEN HAN

It looks like Singapore’s government is appointing itself Guardian of the Internet again. Earlier this month, the Ministry of Communications and Information announced a proposal for two codes of practice that would require social media companies to have “system-wide processes” to deal with sexual or violent content, and give authorities the power to order companies to disable access to specific content for users in Singapore.

It’s a clear progression from March, when the Minister for Communications and Information, Josephine Teo, said that the codes would focus on the three areas of child safety, user reporting and the accountability of social media platforms. There aren’t many more details at this stage, but the government says that these new powers are aimed at protecting people from harmful online content relating to self-harm, sexual harms, public health, public security, and racial and religious intolerance.

This is, by now, a familiar pattern. The government — dominated by the People’s Action Party (PAP) for over 60 years — tends to present a threat, cast itself in the role of protector, then grant itself powers to regulate and censor. It’s how the government expands its power, even as it presents itself to the world as a problem-solver. We saw it in 2019 with the Protection from Online Falsehoods and Manipulation Act (POFMA), when the danger was “fake news,” and with the 2021 Foreign Interference (Countermeasures) Act (FICA), when hostile foreign meddlers were the big bad wolf at the door.

In both these cases, expansive laws allowed the government sweeping powers to issue orders demanding corrections, content removal, access blocks, and more, without checks and balances that inspire confidence. Monsters lurk on the internet, and Singapore’s government persists in the belief that it needs even more powers to deal with them.

What might fall afoul of the government’s safety concerns, you’re wondering? To give you an idea, the 2009 Public Order Act — ostensibly aimed at maintaining public safety — is so broad that even a single person can constitute an illegal assembly. On Friday, June 24, a friend and I spent almost three hours under investigation for this at the Bedok Police Division, where we were slapped with a further alleged offense of “illegal procession,” due to wearing anti-death-penalty T-shirts and walking to the police station from the market across the road (later found not to be an offense after all). Officers also suggested that I might be penalized for obstruction because I refused to hand over my Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter passwords.

The PAP government has a habit of claiming harm as and when it suits them, and there are real reasons to worry about overreach, given its track record. To Singapore, with Love, an award-winning documentary film about Singapore’s political exiles, was banned from public screening in the country on the grounds of harming national security. More recently, the Ministry of Manpower refused to renew the work permit of a Bangladeshi worker who had been vocal about discriminatory and exploitative treatment of migrant workers in the country. It claimed, retrospectively, that a Facebook post he’d written over half a year ago could have incited other migrant workers into public disorder. It gels with a wider context of harassing or attacking activists and critics and enforcing laws that restrict basic civil liberties.

The authorities have also demanded Netflix remove shows with drug-related content from its offerings in Singapore, citing the need to “protect the young from unsuitable content (including inappropriate content that glorifies or encourages drug and substance abuse), maintain community norms and values, and safeguard public interests, while allowing adults to make informed choices.”

It doesn’t serve Singaporeans to have the government acting as our nanny, covering our eyes while clutching her pearls. When it seizes the power to decide whether the people are “reading the right thing,” it is depriving Singaporeans of opportunities to develop media literacy, exercise critical thinking, and become savvier navigators of online spaces. This benefits the government because it fosters among the people a culture of dependency on those in power to exercise control over all aspects of people’s lives. But it hurts Singaporeans by curbing our agency and freedom, trapping us mentally within authoritarian frames and environments.

This is, by now, a familiar pattern. The government — dominated by the People’s Action Party for over 60 years — tends to present a threat, casts itself in the role of protector, then grants itself powers to regulate and censor

POFMA allows any government minister to issue orders to correct, take down, or disable access to content, and compliance is mandated up front within a time frame set by the authorities, even if the recipient of the order later decides to appeal the order to the courts. FICA, which was passed in Parliament last October but hasn’t yet come into force, goes a step further by sidelining the courts completely; appeals against orders under FICA will only go to the Minister for Home Affairs or a government-appointed Reviewing Tribunal.

POFMA has been in effect for over two years. An analysis of POFMA’s use by digital rights researcher Teo Kai Xiang highlights that the “actors most frequently subject to correction directions are opposition groups or figures.” According to the same analysis, only a few recipients of POFMA orders have actually taken the step of challenging their order in court; these cases, once lodged, drag on for a long time. For instance, the opposition Singapore Democratic Party scored a minor victory in 2021 when the judge overturned one part of the POFMA orders it had received — only to receive a fresh POFMA order shortly after.

It’s not even clear if these wide powers mitigate the problems they’re supposed to be solving. Despite the introduction of POFMA as a tool to clamp down on misinformation, conspiracy theories and falsehoods have continued to flourish online, whether related to Covid-19 vaccines or propaganda narratives about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. When people already believe in establishment plots and cover-ups, top-down POFMA orders from a state they distrust are unlikely to convince them otherwise.

It’s not that online harms don’t exist; they obviously do. And it’s not controversial to say that something needs to be done about horrors like child sexual exploitation and revenge porn. How social media companies can better address problematic content on their platforms is another, separate part of the equation. But we cannot allow authoritarian governments — by which I’m referring to not just Singapore’s but also other governments in Southeast Asia and beyond, who would all love to be able to control the content that shapes their people’s worldview — to exploit these genuine problems as opportunities to grab yet more power.


Kirsten Han is a journalist and activist based in Singapore.
‘Borjomi is for Borjomians, not for Russian oligarchs!’ When the Russian owner of a Georgian bottling plant came under sanctions, workers stopped getting paid.

Now they're fighting back.




















A protest rally in Borjomi on June 16

Diana Shanava
Source: Meduza


In late April, the Georgian company IDS Borjomi, which sells mineral water under the brand name Borjomi, announced it was temporarily suspending operations at both of its bottling plants in Georgia due to financial difficulties resulting from the war in Ukraine. Oligarch Mikhail Fridman, owner of the Alfa Group, which owns a majority stake in the company, had come under sanctions. Now Alfa Group plans to donate its shares to Georgia — but this hasn’t helped the plants’ employees, who haven’t been paid in two months. Meduza takes a closer look at the town of Borjomi, where protests are ongoing.

About 60 employees of the Borjomi factory are sitting under a homemade canvas tent, where they’ve been since dawn. For over two weeks now, they’ve been protesting outside of the plant’s gates in the city named after the mineral watch company itself. Across from the protesters sit about fifty police officers who are prepared to arrest them if they decide to cross the street, though the officers do look fairly peaceful; they’ve left their weapons in their vehicles, and some of them aren’t even wearing their body armor.

“Borjomi is for Borjomians, not for Russian oligarchs!” reads a sign someone made by hand. Nearby, on a bus stop, there’s a banner labeled “Blacklist,” along with the names of 20 employees who have publicly opposed the protests and tried to dissuade their colleagues from participating. Some of the names are labeled “Judas.”

What happened to the Borjomi bottling plant?


The Borjomi employees’ protest began soon after April 29, when IDS Borjomi Georgia, the company that owns the local bottling plants, announced it was temporarily suspending production at two plants in Borjomi due to the war in Ukraine. Since 2013, the majority stake of IDS Borjomi International (which owns Borjomi Georgia) has been owned by Alfa Group, whose founder — Russian billionaire Mikhail Fridman — became a target of Western sanctions after the start of the war.

According to a statement from the company, the sanctions effectively made the plant’s operations impossible — largely because the company lost access to its bank accounts. Plant employees stopped being paid and were offered new contracts — under which they would be paid only half of their previous salaries. The majority of employees told the company’s leadership that they would agree under the condition that their old salaries be restored as soon as the plant resumes normal operations. The company refused, and after a protest on May 5, 49 employees were fired. Most of them were forklift or delivery drivers.

Andro Biblidze is one of the 49 workers who got fired that day. He worked at the plant for over 25 years, transporting materials between departments on a forklift. Biblidze told Meduza that his issues with the company’s leadership began in May 2021, but the problem was initially resolved promptly:

My manager had promised me 1200 lari [about $400; the average monthly salary in Georgia at that time was 1,191 lari ($383)] for 24 days of work. But for some reason, it always ended up being less. People began striking for better pay. After that, the workers met with the plant’s management. They promised me 1,500 lari [about $500] for 24 days, and everyone was satisfied with the conditions. Everyone signed a new contract and returned to work.

After the start of the war in Ukraine, according to Andro, the plant’s leadership brought the employees new contracts. Under the new conditions, if production stopped, the employees would receive half of their salary. If the plant stayed open, the workers would be paid on an hourly basis.

In this case, we would be better off with hourly wages than with half of our salary. But production was suspended the entire time [and we didn’t get paid at all]. Since April, they haven’t even paid us the 50 percent they promised us if the plant was closed.

According to Andro, all of the workers who refused to sign the new contract were fired. Most of them were employees who had signed temporary contracts that lasted from three to six months. Workers with permanent contracts weren’t fired.
Back to the picket line

On May 19, several weeks after the plants shut down, Alfa Group released a statement saying that it planned to donate a portion of its stake in Borjomi to the Georgian government. As a result, Mikhail Fridman would no longer own the majority stake, which would allow the plant to access its accounts and resume operations. According to Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Garibashvili, the donated share is worth $100 million.

A week later, IDS Borjomi Georgia employees reached an agreement with the company’s leadership. According to trade union representative Georgy Diasamidze, who helped organize the protests at Borjomi, the company promised to increase the employees’ salaries and to maintain their existing benefits packages. The leadership emphasized that there wouldn’t be any consequences for the workers who had gone on strike. Driver Andro Biblidze recounted the conversation:

After Prime Minister Garibashvili came out [with his statement] and said it was good news for Borjomi workers, I got a message from our plant's management. They promised not hourly wages but fixed wages, which, according to the contract, would be half the amount I’d been getting before April. That’s what we agreed on. We understood that there was a war, a crisis. But even after that, no payments came.

On May 31, the workers started striking again. Almost 800 of them set up tents outside of the plant and started holding protests, unhappy with the new conditions the company's leadership was offering them. They promised they were in it for the long haul.




The workers, who hadn’t been paid for April and May, demanded “the immediate reinstatement” of their 49 fired coworkers' employment, the restoration of their previous contracts, a transition from temporary to permanent contracts, and “a collective agreement to protect the rights of factory workers.”

Georgy Diasamidze emphasized that the workers will continue protests until the plant’s managers meet their demands:

For many Borjomi residents, working in the plant is the only possible income source. 4,500 of the 10,500 residents of Borjomi work in the plant. There are entire families that work here. Given that they haven’t been paid for two months now, it’s not clear how they’re supposed to live or support their children.

Refusing to compromise

IDS Borjomi Georgia spokesperson Naniko Kuprashvili did not respond to Meduza’s question about why the plant workers haven’t been paid their salaries. He said that the company won’t comment on the conflict while the negotiations are ongoing.

On June 9, Georgian Ombudsman Nino Lomdjaria visited the protesters in Borjomi. Lomdjaria said she was aware of the pressure and intimidation being used against employees; she reported later that the workers said the company’s management had threatened to fire them for taking part in the protests, and had promised to pay only workers who didn’t participate. Lomdjaria vowed to start an investigation based on the allegations.

Several days later, Prime Minister Irakli Garibashvili announced that the Georgian government had completed negotiations with Mikhail Fridman for the donated stake in the company. All of the problems at the plant, he promised, would soon be resolved.

According to union representative Georgy Diasamidze, after Garibashvili’s statement, the protesters had some hope that their problems would indeed be resolved soon, but several days later, nothing had changed. So on June 16, they decided to block the road in front of the city administration building. That day, however, representatives from the Health Ministry got in touch with the workers and invited them to a closed meeting.

Diasamidze said that the protesters were offered 10,000 lari (about $3,400) each in compensation, but they refused, as the offer fell short of their list of demands. Now, all of the plant’s workers, with the exception of the 400 administrative employees, have joined the protest. “We’re continuing to protest and continuing to fight for our rights,” said Diasamidze.

Story by Diana Shanava
Translation by Sam Breazeale

‘You might think no prisons are worse than Russian ones, but you’d be wrong’





















Pussy Riot activist Aisoltan Niyazova and the 20-year-old arrest warrant that won’t leave her alone

Source: Meduza

Aisoltan Niyazova
June 24, 2022

In late May, Russian activist Aisoltan Niyazova was arrested in Slovenia; a few days later, it happened again in Croatia. She had come to both countries to take part in Pussy Riot’s charity concert tour. Niyazova began her career working at a bank, but in 2011, she was sent to prison for allegedly committing fraud; there, she met Maria Alyokhina and became an advocate for prisoners’ rights. Niyazova spoke to Meduza about her recent arrests, her introduction to Pussy Riot, and how her time in prison turned her into an activist.


In the past month, Russian activist Aisoltan Niyazova has been arrested twice — once in Slovenia and once in Croatia — in response to a single international warrant filed through Interpol in 2002 by the government of Turkmenistan, where she has dual citizenship. Both times, Niyazova was bewildered: not only were the allegations, she says, bogus (the Turkmenistani government claims she embezzled $20 million from the country’s Central Bank), but she had also already served a six-year sentence in a Russian prison on the same charges.

Fortunately for her, she was traveling with the feminist protest group Pussy Riot, whose members have an extensive network of human rights contacts. And in Slovenia, the lawyers her producer found for her didn’t even end up being necessary — a quick online search by the prosecutor confirmed Niyazova’s story.

“I called my nephew, because he still has the documents from my Russian sentence, and I asked him to take a photo of them and send it to me. The whole time, the prosecutor is Googling the things I’ve told them and saying, ‘It looks like she’s telling the truth. I see all the information about her right here.’”

When Niyazova’s nephew sent her the documents, she forwarded them to the court’s email address. Her interpreter started translating the verdict from the Russian court to the Slovenian judge: “‘Over a time period not determined by investigators, at a location not determined by investigators, Niyazova entered into a criminal conspiracy with people not determined by investigators.’”

The judge was shocked: “You spent six months in prison under this sentence?”

“Yep,” said Niyazova.

The judge closed the case and gave Niyazova a hug.

The Croatian judicial system was not as understanding. When the Pussy Riot tour van reached the Croatian border after a 14-hour drive from Germany and Niyazova gave the border guard her passport, a police officer quickly appeared and took her away. After a strip search, she was taken to a remand prison in Zagreb.

Though her friends found a lawyer for her almost immediately, they didn’t know where she was, and the police wouldn’t let her make any calls. The officers initially told Niyazova that they couldn’t hold a trial because it was Croatian Statehood Day, a state holiday; soon after, though, they brought her to a court and began taking her fingerprints and other personal information.

When she sat before the judge, Niyazova tried to explain the situation. “Look how many times I’ve crossed borders,” she said. “This same thing happened in Slovenia, but they sorted it out.”

“Slovenia is a different country,” the judge told her.

When Niyazova asked to use a phone to contact her friends, who she was certain had found a lawyer for her, the judge told her that she couldn’t have a lawyer because of the holiday. He then said that he was arresting her for 40 days, and that that’s how long she would have to “provide her documents,” presumably to prove that she had already done time for the charges. She was taken to Zagreb’s central prison.

“You’d think nothing could be worse than a Russian prison, but I can officially confirm that Croatian prisons are a hundred times worse,” Niyazova told Meduza. She was put in a small cell with seven other women. The institution had originally been a men’s prison, but a single floor had later been designated for women, so while men were given access to a large courtyard with a volleyball field, ping-pong tables, and badminton courts, the women had to spend their legally-mandated two-hour recreation time in a small, dark area between two prison buildings.

Niyazova arrived at the prison on a Monday. By the end of the week, Pussy Riot member Maria Alyokhina had organized a press conference about her arrest, and on Friday morning, human rights lawyer Lina Budak arrived with a stack of papers for Niyazova’s appeal.

“She told me, ‘We’ll contact the European Parliament. We’ll contact everybody,’” said Niyazova.

Immediately after the meeting with Budak, the prison head called Niyazova to his office, where six ombudsmen were waiting to speak to her. They had heard from Alyokhina about the differential treatment men and women were receiving at the prison, and they wanted to hear from Niyazova herself about prison conditions.

After that, she returned to her cell. Within a few minutes, however, prison officials came and opened the cell door.

“All the other women in the cell start clapping, saying something in Croatian, and then they try to explain to me in English that I’m free. Everyone in the cell is clapping and saying, ‘Bravo! You can go home!’ I walked out and was shocked — there were about 40 journalists with TV cameras.”

The court, she learned later, had decided to annul the arrest order without even waiting for Niyazova’s appeal hearing, no doubt due to public pressure. After her release, the Pussy Riot team and the lawyers went to a cafe to celebrate. Soon after, Lina Budak received a call from the mayor of Zagreb, who invited Niyazova to be his personal guest at the Zagreb pride parade the following day.

“[At the post-parade concert,] they invited me to the stage, and the hosts told me, ‘We’re all responsible for what happened, but let’s apologize to Aisoltan.’ And everyone started chanting, ‘Sorry, sorry!’”

A tale of two (more) prisons

Her calling attention to the gender disparity at the Zagreb prison wasn’t the first time Niyazova had used a jail stint to improve conditions for everyone. Her acquaintances like to joke that she’s left multiple prisons better than she found them, and in every case, it's been thanks to the same 2002 allegation from the Turkmenistani government.

The first time Niyazova found herself behind bars was in 2011, when Swiss authorities arrested her in response to Turkmenistan's Interpol request. While Switzerland ultimately refused the request and sent her to Russia rather than Turkmenistan, Niyazova spent eight months in a Swiss prison while the allegations were being evaluated

“I can guarantee you that 90 percent of Russians would be happy to live in a Swiss prison, because they’ve never lived that well in their lives,” Niyazova told Meduza. “There [in the prison], you can choose a language course (English, French, or German), there’s an accounting class, and there’s a class where they teach you to bake buns and croissants, even to make the dough. I was amazed when I learned about it — after all, it’s funded by Swiss taxpayers, and none of the inmates were Swiss citizens.”

When Niyazova was eventually told one Thursday that she would be sent to Russia the following day, her heart sank: she wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to her son, who had been sent to a Swiss boarding school, because visitors were only allowed on Wednesdays and Sundays. She pleaded with the prison officials, but they said there was nothing they could do.

The next morning, however, when she was in the shower, somebody knocked on the door. They told her she had a visitor.

“I quickly got dressed and ran out. I enter the room and see my son and my best friend crying. They gave us an hour, we said goodbye, and when I left, my only desire was to throw myself at the feet of everyone who let us meet one last time,” Niyazova said.

When she arrived in Moscow, she was initially placed in a quarantine cell.

“There was an awful stench — so bad it made my eyes tear up," said Niyazova. "Then I looked around. It turned out that there were 11 women there, and they were all vomiting into a bed. I started knocking on the iron door, explaining that they were all sick and that someone needed to call the doctor. But then I’m told, ‘Go to sleep. Those are all drug addicts. They’re going through withdrawal.’”

The next day, she was transferred to a regular, 45-person unit. Later that day, though, after lawyers from the Swiss Embassy came to see her, prison officials decided leaving her with such a large group was too risky; if she revealed something she saw to the Swiss Embassy, it could create a scandal. As a result, they moved her to a four-person cell. Swiss Embassy representatives continued to visit her regularly.

In March 2012, Pussy Riot member Maria Alyokhina was arrested for her part in the band’s Punk Prayer performance in Moscow's Cathedral of Christ the Savior; she and Niyazova met for the first time when they were placed in a two-person cell together. Soon after, one of the prison officials called Niyazova into her office.

“There’s a reason we put you in the special cell,” she told Niyazova, “We’ve got a girl from Pussy Riot. You’re a smart lady; now, there were five of them on the pulpit, and only two of them got arrested, so why don’t you get her to tell you who the others are.”

Niyazova started screaming and cursing at her, threatening to tell the Swiss Embassy and the wider world what she had asked her to do. “[The prison official] started threatening me, saying she’d move me from cell to cell until I ‘forgot where I slept.’ And I tell her, ‘Listen, I’m already in prison. I’m at rock bottom. Do you really think I’m searching for a comfortable spot in the shit? I absolutely couldn’t care less where you put my little temporal body. My mind and soul are far away from here, with my son.”

Fortunately, Niyazova was allowed to remain in the cell with Alyokhina until the end of Alyokhina’s sentence: 10 months in all. 22-year-old Alyokhina, who by that time had established a strong network of volunteers and a reputation for action, helped Niyazova advocate for better conditions in the prison — and their work paid off.

“Niyazova, we need to hang up your portrait so that future generations of inmates will know who’s responsible for improving conditions here,” the head of the prison once told Niyazova.

Meanwhile, Niyazova would help Alyokhina respond to the fan letters that never stopped coming.

“The censor would bring her letters twice a week, and Maria physically didn’t have time to answer them all — we would work together to write back. I would write that I wasn’t Maria but that I was with her, and thanks for the support,” said Niyazova.

Even years later, Niyazova and Alyokhina still talk almost every day, and they've recently teamed up to raise money for Ukrainian refugees. “I really love [Alyokhina],” Niyazova told Meduza. “There are a lot of people who I love and respect, but that special kind of reverent love is something I probably only have for my son and for Maria. [...] If the Pussy Riot guys ever need my help, I’m always prepared to give it.”

Interview by Anna Filippova

Abridged translation by Sam Breazeale

‘What I want is a secular Chechnya’ More women are trying to escape violence and persecution in Chechnya. But fleeing to Moscow is no longer enough to ensure their safety.











Peter Endig / dpa / Alamy / Vida Press

Source: Meduza

In 2017, thanks to an investigation by independent Russian newspaper Novaya Gazeta, the world learned about the repressions queer people face in the North Caucasus. Stories of torture and kidnappings appeared on the homepage of the New York Times, and Vladimir Putin had no choice but to comment. Soon, people began evacuating from Chechnya. The majority of evacuees in the first wave were men, but human rights advocates have since seen an increase in the number of requests from women, not all of them LGBT+. To learn more about the threats women face in Chechnya, Meduza spoke to two human rights advocates and two Chechen women who managed to escape.

Nowhere is safe

“There have been a lot of women [reaching out to us lately],” said human rights advocate Mansur Akhmetov, who’s been working to help LGBT+ people escape from the North Caucasus since 2017 and is currently working with the crisis group SK SOS (he previously worked with the Russian LGBT Network). “And while [...] it’s not always necessary for men to leave the country [because it’s sometimes enough for them just to leave Chechnya], that’s not possible for women. Because they’ll always be found by a brother or an in-law [who will try to bring them back].”

In recent years, Chechen security officials have begun receiving help from law enforcement officers throughout Russia. “In the past, these people [who have fled persecution in Chechnya and gone to other parts of the country] wouldn’t get caught in Moscow, and if they did get caught, it would be by their relatives,” said human rights advocate Svetlana Anokhina. “Whereas now, [security forces from Chechnya and other parts of Russia] work together, because it’s clear to everyone that Kadyrov has gotten the go-ahead directly from the Kremlin.”


Activists have noted that while it’s sometimes possible for gay men to find excuses to leave Chechnya — for they say they’re going to work abroad, for example — women don't have that option; their lives are tightly controlled by their families.
Below, Meduza is publishing excerpts from the monologues of two women who successfully managed to flee Russia with the help of advocacy groups like SK SOS. To protect the safety of everyone involved, her name and several identifying details have been changed.
Aminat Lorsanova

24 years old, left Russia in 2019. Aminat is currently the only woman to have reported her relatives to the Russian Investigative Committee for abusing her. After her public complaint, more women from the North Caucasus began reaching out to human rights groups.

At some point in 2017-2018, my mother found some intimate messages with some men [on my phone]. After she found out about that, my relatives literally made my life hell.


My mom said that if I didn’t let her “check” my “virginity,” she would go and show the messages to all of my relatives. She made me lie on a bed, took a medical catheter, inserted it [into my vagina], and pulled it out, multiple times. I lay there on the bed for several minutes, sobbing and asking her to stop.

[...]

In August 2018, [my parents] forcibly sent me to [a residential psychiatric] hospital, where I spent 25 days getting injected with heavy-duty medications that made my blood pressure drop sharply.

My mom said she would have me locked up somewhere [in a psychiatric hospital] and would ask them to shock my genitals “so that everything would fall out.” She kept repeating that I had nymphomania, and that I was a slut and had brought shame on my family.

THE RUSSIAN LGBT NETWORK

‘We will continue to work’ Known for evacuating queer people from repressive Chechnya, the Russian LGBT Network is now considered a ‘foreign agent’
8 months ago

Chechen families only love boys. Nobody loves girls. Nobody will defend a woman if she tries to resist violence or tries to defend herself. There’s nothing, no [social] institutions, no services to solve these problems. If a person has marital problems or anything like that, Chechens go to shamans, psychics, or mullahs.

They took me to a mullah, too. In Islam, they believe that if someone is possessed by a jinn, the person must experience physical pain to get it out. The person should scream and writhe.

I was put on the couch and my father sat on my legs so that I couldn’t move. The mullah sat on the right, spit, screamed, read the Koran, and hit me with a stick. [He didn’t stop] until my solar plexus was swollen and red. They [mullahs] understand that they’re not likely to face any consequences.

It was then [after the “session”] that I decided I would try to leave. I was part of a group on VKontakte called Overheard Feminism [Note: the group was later deleted]. It had a list of organizations that help people escape. The only organization whose contact information I could find right then was the LGBT network, but I wasn’t brave enough to write to them. I’m straight and I wasn’t part of the LGBT community. But I needed help. I thought if I told them the truth, they wouldn’t help me [but human rights advocates from the LGBT Network ultimately did help].

I've often heard people say, “If we had Ichkeria [the unrecognized secessionist government of the Chechen Republic that existed until the Second Chechen War], our lives would be better.” But I’ve read interviews with Chechen commanders who supported Ichkeria, and one of them said, “I have four wives.” And he made no secret of his consumerist attitude towards his wives. They were like objects to him. “I got the first one, got the second one, and I also have a mistress. And why? Because I can afford to.” If we had something like Ichkeria, my position as a woman wouldn’t be any better. Do you know what I want? I want Chechnya to become a secular society.
Khadija

24 years old, lesbian, escaped from Chechnya

From the time I was small, my father told me I needed to occupy my time with something “feminine” — that way I wouldn’t have to leave home. When I was 13-14, when I’d become seriously interested in sewing, I convinced my parents to at least study that, so that I could become a designer. And my father let me.

The problems began when I needed to go somewhere, to talk to people. When I was 15, I made an Instagram account and started searching for clients there. To be honest, I had no idea how to start a business. But I wanted to do a photoshoot — a real one, with models and a photographer. My parents said it was unnecessary. So I decided that instead of asking them, I would just secretly make arrangements with people. Once everything was planned, I just went to them and told them I needed to get ready for my shoot. It was incomprehensible to them. But my mom was very proud of me and tried to convince my father, and it’s only thanks to her help that things worked out for me.

[...]

My family never had money until I started working. I can’t quite say that I was providing for [all of my family members], but I paid for our groceries and for my parents to remodel their house. My mom or my dad would accompany me to work. Sometimes I would call a taxi with a woman driver — we’ve had those kinds of taxis in Chechnya for several years now. Even at the office, I was never allowed to be alone.

But at some point, I got sick of the overprotectiveness, of my inability to leave home [alone]. I was always dead set against getting married early, especially since I had only liked girls from the time I was a teenager. When men started coming to meet me, I thought, “Alright, I have to choose someone who will let me work, study, and live freely.”

[...]

I was married for three months. A month after the wedding, I opened my first studio. I was so happy about that. For my parents, too, I had finally become a “good daughter” [after the wedding]. I was happy to “please” them: no matter how much I studied, no matter how successful my business was, nothing made them as happy as my marriage.

But it was very difficult — inside, I was dead the entire time. I gave the money I was earning to him, for gas and all that. I paid for our apartment and bought our food.

Just a week after the wedding, he started keeping strict control over me. I was afraid to miss a call from him, because if I didn’t answer in time, he would become hysterical. He beat me and raped me. When I told him not to beat me, he would just explode even more and say, “You think this is beating? What, have you never been really beaten before?”

[...]

One day, my mom heard him yelling at me over the phone. She took the phone from me and turned it off. I started to panic: “What are you doing? I never do that, because he’ll come get me!” She said, “Nobody will touch you.” And that was the first time in those three months that I felt there was someone who would protect me.

That night, I told her everything — we talked until dawn. When I saw that my mom was willing to defend me, I said, “Please, do everything you can so that I don’t have to go back there, and so I never have to see him again.” Probably the only good thing my dad did [for me] was protect me then. He saw the fear in my eyes and protected me.

In Chechnya, there are Kadyrovites who focus on young people. They kidnap gay men, lesbians, atheists, and feminists, and “fix” them. They have a list of “undesirable” Chechens, and at some point, I ended up on it.

A friend of mine, who had a long debate with me about feminism on Instagram live, was kidnapped by the Kadyrovites. After that, everyone he knew started getting messages from his phone. I learned later on that when he was being tortured by the police, he told them I’m a lesbian and an atheist. I also got a message from his number; it was an invitation to meet up. And then they hacked into my Telegram account.

At that point, I’d long been planning to leave Chechnya. I was in touch with human rights advocates and had tickets. Someone [probably from the authorities] told my father about it after my Telegram was hacked. After that, I spent a long time locked up, no documents, no ability to work or leave. I spent the entire time reading about radical feminism, and I became convinced that I didn’t want to live like I was now, and that I needed to fight to take control of my life back and stop belonging to men.

I didn’t get my passport back for another six months — I told my parents that I needed my documents to go to the bank [and I escaped].

CHECHNYA AND THE WAR

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Meduza, working 24/7, always for our readers We need your help like never before

Story by Anna Filippova

Abridged translation by Sam Breazeale